Kalliel (kalliel) wrote,
Kalliel
kalliel

infamati et obliterati: Rewrite Me - 10x04 tag

Please allow me to populate the world with like 40 amorphous, artless codas. XP


Rewrite Me, ~340 words. Dean, Sam. 10x04 tag. Inanimate object POV. TW: suicidal ideation.


Your fortune cookie tonight is blank because you do not believe in fate. It doesn't waste its answers on you. Also, the toner ran dry.

I know you're not much for writing, and the more you talk the worse you seem to make things ("Sammy let me go" is several hundred words inadequate and also four too many), but let me borrow your ballpoint.

Remember when you used to chew these?

No, me neither.

Let me write you your fortune:

You've just told your brother that you're embarrassed. It's a weak admission, given the givens, but one of the true ones, at least. You're embarrassed by your freedom and what your freedom looked like, what you did with it. (It's what you do with all good things. Lay waste and ravage.) You're embarrassed that who you were, what you were, as a demon--is so much a part of you you recognize. You're embarrassed that Sam and all the world have seen this now, though of course Sam won't let himself. Or perhaps he saw and has since disremembered. Part of you still believes that when you both were dreamwalking, when Bobby was still alive, Sam too saw what you saw in you then.

You're embarrassed now, by your weaknesses, your baggage. Having spent some time away, you see yourself more clearly. You've always felt your weight, but now you've seen it. It's like coming home after an absence and suddenly understanding dust. And not to judge by covers, but you're not that interested in you.

You're ashamed because you wanted to die. You bled into Sam and he dragged you, like he's always promised he would, and you wanted to die. And shame and want found each other's hands when they were only children, after all. You are ashamed.

You remain ashamed, because you still want to die. You may need to.

Your brother walks you through the weight of your own body. He hails you. He knows all you are and what you've done and he would like to remind you, the one thing he wants to remind you, is the weight of you in his arms.

Your lucky numbers are 200, 37, and 2.

 

Tags: fic: spn, infamati et obliterati
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